


Closer

by specifiedtrash



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/specifiedtrash/pseuds/specifiedtrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything goes according to Sayaka’s plan.<br/>(Warning for mild blood, ship only implied as a crush.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

If anyone could handle a curveball, it was Leon Kuwata. And Sayaka Maizono had been throwing all the right curves at him, but he couldn’t see the hourglass for the sand running out. And it was almost empty.

Being invited to a girl’s room at night was a good thing. No exceptions. Maybe she wanted everything, maybe she just wanted to talk, but he’d still be scoring points with a comforting pat on the shoulder and pretty lies.

"You’ll be okay," "I’ll get you out of here," "No one’s going to kill anyone," he was getting good at lying, especially to himself. But it worked, when Sayaka was shaking and sniffling into his chest. He took the opportunity to stroke her long hair. She let him. She smelled so sweet. Sugar and freshly washed clothes, some kind of fruit or flower or maybe just nice shampoo.

Then, somewhere in the mix, the ball curved and he missed the pitch. He’d rested his chin on the top of her head, held her tightly, and told her he would protect her.

Funny. You could cook an entire meal without realizing you’d cut your finger, if the knife was sharp enough. It wasn’t until his side felt wet that he took a confused step back and looked down.

Sayaka hadn’t moved forward with him. Her grip on the kitchen knife had been so tight that when he stepped back, it slid out and stayed close to her. A thin string of blood tied him to the edge, and he felt adrenaline kicking in.

Leon took a couple steps backward, stumbling, hands shaking and hovering over his midriff in confusion and panic.  _Why?_   Sayaka didn’t move, didn’t even look up at him. He backed into some shelves, reached behind himself to brace, and his hand found something metal.

He looked up at Sayaka through shaking breath. At the knife, still in her hand, the way her hair covered her face and kept her expression a mystery. The blade was dark and wet and hard to look at, but he could still see the metal shine- dulled and reddened by where it had been.

Whatever he’d gripped to catch himself fell when he did. It clattered to the floor and fell loose from it’s sheath in front of him. Taunting him with how easily he could have defended himself, if he hadn’t been so damn oblivious and hopeful.

Slowly, Sayaka took a step closer. Scared. Timid. A gazelle tiptoeing up to a captured lion. Curious. Maybe apologetic. But still terrified of what might happen if he wasn’t as contained as he looked.

His vision was going blurry. Blurrier than that time he’d had a concussion, blurrier than when he’d been crying. Everything spun, but he felt hot tears hit his face, and didn’t think they were his own.

"I’m so sorry," he thought she whispered. He tried to bring the blue-ish blur into focus, but it was pointless. The room began to dim and he’d like to have said he panicked and fought it. He’d like to say he cursed her name, that he wrote it down for everyone to see, that he’d gotten a chance to say goodbye and maybe just one shot at giving her a kiss. But he didn’t.

It felt warm and cool both at once. Soft and yielding, gentle and sweet. Timid, but inviting… He was falling into everything that made up Sayaka. Just less literally than he’d hoped for.

And just like that, the fire went out. The blue in his eyes went from electric passion to frozen water. His weak pulse stopped and Sayaka was left alone in the room, crouching over a body without a soul.

He would keep his word, she’d told herself. He’d get her out of here with his sacrifice. Just like the start of every performance, dry the tears and put on a sparkling smile. She straightened her back, took a breath to prepare, and locked this memory away where no one would ever find it. Time to put on a show.


End file.
